


Patience, Tenacity, Luck

by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)



Category: Chalion Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 13:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13054755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Culmer
Summary: Some months afterPenric's Fox, Thala investigates the disappearance of a trainee shaman.





	Patience, Tenacity, Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertVixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/gifts).



Thala was nearly finished writing up the report on Oswyl's latest case -- nothing particularly interesting or uncommon, merely a drunken fight turned fatal with the killer fleeing fruitlessly to his brother's chandlery -- when the senior locator himself knocked on the doorframe of their tiny shared office and said, "That can wait. We have a priority assignment."

He looked grim, but that meant very little; Oswyl was not a man much given to smiles.

Thala duly set aside her pen. "Supplies?" she asked.

Oswyl shook his head. "It's local, no need. A trainee shaman has gone missing -- a woman, name of Kereneth, on the verge of investiture with a Great Beast. She failed to appear for meditation yesterday morning, and there was a street disturbance near her boarding house the previous night. She has no known kin connections, but given the sensitivity of the shamans' position and the chance that this may signal the recent anti-shamanic grumbling shifting from words to actions, the court wants the matter handled both quickly and quietly."

"Ah." And given Thala's involvement in the mess with the demon-possessed vixen this past summer, to say nothing of her continuing friendship with both Lunet and Inglis kin Wolfcliff, she was perhaps the only locator in Easthome who could visit the shamans' compound without arousing notice.

"You'll start at the boarding house?" she asked as she reached for her cloak and casebook.

Oswyl nodded. "We'll reconvene here at sundown and discuss our options in light of what we learn today. Remember to keep an open mind at this stage. We don't want to get locked into false notions and twist the evidence around the facts."

"I'll be careful," Thala promised, and then went to see about requisitioning a horse. The shamans' compound would be a long walk otherwise, and they had no time to waste.

\---------------

At Thala's greeting, Lunet looked up from the adolescent foxes she was feeding, hand still full of raw beef scraps, and smiled. "Hello, Thala. I thought your free day was tomorrow?"

Thala smiled back, but she suspected the expression was somewhat thin and unconvincing. "It is. Or was. I'm actually here about a case. One of your trainees, a woman by the name of Kereneth, disappeared two nights ago."

Lunet's face fell. "Oh. Then it _was_ foul play? I'd heard she didn't show for her meeting with Master Jarilo yesterday, but I'd hoped it was just second thoughts. There's a reason we make trainees spend a week living outside the compound before investiture -- it's an irrevocable choice and not everyone decides to follow through. I thought Kereneth might be one of the people who back out."

Thala's fingers twitched toward the casebook in her pocket, but she stayed her hand. Oswyl liked to get people's stories as casually as possible, hoping the informality would keep them from freezing up or growing hostile. She could take notes later, once she had the lay of the land and time to hunt for specific details and possible discrepancies.

"Even if that's what happened, wouldn't she have sent word?" she asked. "Obviously people take ill or have unexpected troubles, but I always make sure to notify Oswyl if I have to miss a day at work."

Lunet shrugged. "True, but I think sometimes the ones who turn aside feel embarrassed, or like they've wasted our time and money with their training. They'd rather disappear quietly than face the rest of us, or even stay and work as support staff. And Kereneth always struck me as a bit... this will sound unfortunate, but rather like prey. Something small and shy, uncomfortable out in the open -- a mouse, perhaps, or a sparrow, not something one could use to make a Great Beast. Honestly I was more surprised she didn't back out sooner."

"I see." Thala tapped her fingers against the edge of the fox enclosure, an aimless cadence, as she considered her next line of inquiry. What would Oswyl do?

First, identify the crime: was this murder or abduction? Unknown, and Oswyl's investigation of Kereneth's boarding house and its reported disturbance had a better chance of answering that than she did here.

Second, identify the victim: the more she knew about Kereneth, her habits and connections, the more she could narrow potential motives and methods for her disappearance.

Third, identify suspects.

Step two it was.

"We aren't sure why Kereneth missed her training yesterday," she said. "I wouldn't want to stir up worry over something that might, as you said, simply be a person returning home in embarrassment. But we don't want to rule anything out at this point, so the more I can learn about her, the better picture we can draw of whatever happened. Can we talk somewhere without being overheard?"

"Of course," Lunet said, wiping her greasy, bloodstained hands on her butcher's apron and rising to her feet. "Goodbye, darlings. We'll practice hunting again tomorrow," she said to the young foxes darting playfully around her ankles, and vaulted gracefully out of the enclosure rather than risk opening the gate.

\---------------

After a brief detour to dispose of the meat bucket and apron, Lunet led Thala to her own room, on the third floor of one of the many structures that dotted the shamans' compound. It was gently L-shaped, with a shadowy back alcove clearly intended for sleeping, and a slightly larger, windowed area of more indistinct purpose, into which Lunet had crammed a bookshelf, a handloom, a spinning wheel, and a battered table one end of which was covered in papers and the other in unwashed cups and dishes. She winced as she opened the hallway door and seemed to realize the disarray.

"My mother would switch me for inflicting this mess on a guest," Lunet murmured.

"I won't tell her if you won't," Thala assured her with a tiny smile. She pulled out the chair at the dish-covered end of the table, stacked three plates on top of each other, and laid her casebook and pencil in the newly uncovered space. Then she turned toward where Lunet had perched beside the spinning wheel, pointedly removing her hand from the pencil.

"How do we do this?" Lunet asked. "Do you have a list of questions?"

Thala shook her head. "Not yet. Start by telling me whatever comes to mind about Kereneth -- her appearance, her habits, her friends, anything that stood out to you. If something seems important, I may stop you and ask for more details, but right now I'm just building a foundation."

Lunet stared at her hands for a moment, picking idly at a string of beef jammed under one fingernail. "We get two sorts of female hopefuls: young and unmarried, or middle-aged widows. Kereneth is the second type, a year or two past thirty. I believe she came from a crossroads town in the deep forest and has some family still living there. The archivist would know more. In person she's unremarkable. Neither tall nor short, plain face, brown hair, quiet voice, very self-effacing. Mouse or sparrow, like I said."

Thala nodded and made an encouraging noise in the back of her throat.

"I was her mentor for the first month -- showed her around, helped her settle in, introduced her to the animals -- but I wouldn't say I know her well. She keeps herself to herself," Lunet continued. "That's one reason I thought she wouldn't last, since being a shaman depends on making connections, both between ourselves and the beasts and between ourselves and the world. But maybe she just values privacy. That can be in short supply around here, as you know."

Thala, who had indeed encountered that problem a handful of times in her meetings with Inglis, snorted in agreement. Then a thought struck her. "You say she likes privacy. Would anyone outside the college know that she was a shamanic trainee?"

Lunet shrugged. "I doubt she would have volunteered the information, and she was good at answering questions without revealing much. But the smell of the animal enclosures does linger, and there aren't any secret entrances to the compound. Anyone could watch the gates to see who comes and goes regularly."

"Hmm." Impossible to either confirm or rule out an attack related to Kereneth's shamanic status, then, at least without further information. Thala drummed her fingers on the table, considering. "She sounds rather lonely. Do you know if she has _any_ connections in Easthome?"

Lunet shrugged again. "As I said, I don't know her well. She could have a dozen friends outside the college with us none the wiser. But I don't think she kept contact with her family. She said something once, when I was talking about my own family -- this was when I took leave to attend my brother's wedding last spring, before we met -- that made me think there was bad blood there. Something like..." Lunet trailed off, squinting upward as if reeling tattered, half-remembered words in on a spiritual thread. "That she hoped my brother's marriage was happier than hers had been, since he and his wife had chosen each other while she'd-- oh. While she'd been sold for a stake in a sawmill. I'd forgotten that."

Interesting. It might come to nothing, of course, but Thala pulled her casebook into her lap and jotted down a quick reminder to check the shamans' archives for any information they had on Kereneth's family and home.

"Is there anything besides your impression of her personality that suggested Kereneth was having trouble with her training?" Thala asked. "Did she complain much?"

"Not that I recall," Lunet said. "Her teachers never seemed displeased with her progress, though I once overheard Master Llenae say that matching her with a Great Beast would be the next best thing to impossible since even a slug would overwhelm her. But he said the same of me before I was given my fox-within. I think some people dislike the idea that women can have teeth and claws just as much as men."

Thala carefully didn't glance down at the gray clothes marking her as one of the Father's locators. "I do believe you may be right about that," she said drily.

"And even a mouse or sparrow will fight for its life when cornered," Lunet added. She sighed. "I hope you find her. Even though we weren't close, it's nice to have other women around, and I'd hate to think something happened to her just for being a shaman or a woman."

"We'll do our best," Thala promised. She rose and tucked her casebook back into her pocket. "Now I need to visit your archives, so I can copy whatever information the college has about Kereneth's background."

"Oh, certainly," Lunet said. "I'll take you there -- the directions are a bit confusing, and things should go smoother if I'm there to provide an introduction."

\---------------

The Royal College of Shamans maintained enough records that they employed two full-time archivists, one for documents relating to their studies and another for the day-to-day minutia of running a large organization. With Lunet's introduction to smooth the way, Thala found herself rapidly ensconced in a small office with the latter, a brisk young woman, visibly pregnant, who introduced herself as Meryl.

"Is this about money or people?" she asked, tucking a strand of corn-gold hair behind one ear.

Thala paused halfway through pulling her pencil from her pocket. Money hadn't occurred to her as a potential motive, but if Kereneth's family had been well-off, ransom or some obscure blackmail scheme might be involved. Anti-shamanic sentiment was still more likely, of course, but she would have to keep that alternate thought in mind.

"People," she said as she laid her pencil and casebook in her lap. "I'm investigating the disappearance of shaman trainee Kereneth. She seems to have vanished sometime between leaving the college two days ago and her scheduled training session yesterday morning. I need access to all your records about her, including family and training progress. If you could put me in touch with her teachers as well, that would be greatly appreciated."

She signed the five gods after she spoke, both to invoke the Father's watchful eye on her progress and to signal to Meryl that her inquiry was in earnest.

Meryl sighed. "A woman gone missing in the city isn't exactly news, is it? But I'm glad at least this one is being looked into. Wait here and I'll fetch your documents and see if I can schedule you a meeting with Master Jarilo."

"Thank you," Thala said, and made a note about financial motives as Meryl left the office.

The records proved largely unenlightening, in that they mostly confirmed what Lunet had already told Thala. Kereneth hailed from Storkford, a crossroads town at an ancient ford across the Shadowglass River, which now maintained a handsome stone bridge and several mills on both tributary streams and the river itself. She was a widow, and had lost her husband and five-year-old son to an outbreak of the pox two years ago. Her teachers reported satisfaction with her progress and theoretical understanding, while expressing a cautious worry over her tendency to avoid both people in general and confrontation in particular, and how that might interfere with her ability to host a Great Beast.

Master Jarilo, when Meryl escorted Thala to his meditation chamber, proved more helpful.

Jarilo was a short, wiry man of perhaps fifty years, his hair stone gray and his deep-set eyes lined by years of laughter. Thala wondered what his Great Beast might be. Something prone to mischief, she suspected: not a fox like Lunet, but perhaps a crow, or a particularly lively cat.

"Kereneth didn't change her mind and vanish from shame," he said when Thala raised that possibility, his voice and posture both expressing utter certainty. "She was quiet, to be sure, and disliked open conflict, but I've rarely met someone less willing to be moved from her path, once chosen. I've seen that before in some of our older students: people who have spent most of their lives at the mercy of others' whims, and who hold onto their own decisions like a bulldog to a target's throat in response. In fact, I planned to match her with a Great Badger, which she knew and accepted once I reassured her I wasn't joking."

Thala added that to her mental image of the vanished woman, changing the angles and shading to incorporate the new perspective. Aloud, she said, "I see. Assuming all was well on that front, did anything else seem off in the past week? Did she show any signs of agitation? Any changes to her usual routine -- beyond the temporary shift to lodgings in the city proper?"

Jarilo frowned and stroked his fingers through his short, feathery beard. "She went to see her sister-in-law three days ago as usual, so no change there. She did seem a bit upset two days ago when I took her to spend the afternoon with her badger, but she told me she'd run across one of our suppliers being stalled by a handful of people shouting things about tainted souls, so I assumed it was the natural agitation anyone would feel when reminded that a significant portion of the population still regards shamans as spiritually suspect. Do you think it was something to do with-- whatever happened to her?"

"It's still too early in our investigation to be sure," Thala said. "We're exploring all roads so we don't commit to the wrong one in haste." She paused, then added, trying to sound casual, "Can you tell me anything about Kereneth's sister-in law? I've had trouble learning much about her family, so every piece helps."

Jarilo smiled. "Oh, certainly! Braniwen is a divine of the Sister, currently in Easthome to study... something, I don't believe Kereneth ever said specifically. But she maintains lodgings in her order's chapterhouse, and Kereneth visits her for supper once a week. Their last visit was, I believe, three days ago. I don't know her personally, but Kereneth generally seems refreshed after speaking with her, so I've always supported their connection."

"Generally?" Thala asked.

Jarilo shrugged. "I believe Braniwen is Kereneth's only source of family news, and I assume now and then the news is unfortunate. This week might have been one of those times, come to think of it, but I don't pry so I couldn't say for certain."

"I understand, and I'm sure Kereneth appreciates your courtesy," Thala said as she scribbled one last line in her casebook. She stood from the hard, bare floor of the meditation chamber (and privately made a note to take a hot bath that evening, to ease the ache from her back and knees) and signed the five gods. "Thank you for your time and assistance, Master Jarilo."

"You're looking for my student," Master Jarilo said as he stood in turn. "How could I _not_ help you? And on that note, let me escort you to your next destination, wherever that may be."

\---------------

Despite having a longer distance to travel, Thala returned to headquarters before Oswyl. She finished writing up the previous case, turned in the report to the archivist, and ventured across the street to buy a half-dozen pasties and two pints of small beer from one of the local taverns. She had just settled in to review her notes and speculations when Oswyl strode through the door and dropped into his own chair with a weary sigh.

"Any luck?" Thala asked sympathetically.

"Yes. Whether good or bad, however, remains to be seen," Oswyl said. "To summarize, the boarding house in question has an arrangement with the College, such that all would-be shamans stay there the week before their investiture. Several lay compound workers also lodge there. As such, there are relatively frequent scuffles and shouting matches between shamanic supporters and detractors. The disturbance two nights ago left several men bleeding, but while several people swore knives and clubs were involved, nobody admitted to drawing a weapon. It's entirely possible that Kereneth was caught in that mess, but it will take days to untangle who was there, let alone who might have seen her."

"I see," said Thala.

"But enough of that," Oswyl said. "What did you learn from the shamans?"

Thala glanced down at her casebook. "Kereneth is a widow from Storkford on the Shadowglass, probably from a moderately wealthy commercial family. Her husband and son died of pox two years ago, after which she came to Easthome. As far as the shamans know, she ceased contact with everyone but her sister by marriage, one Braniwen, a divine of the Daughter who is currently residing in Easthome. They meet once a week for supper. Her teacher, one Master Jarilo, reports that she seemed agitated two days ago, but he didn't know the cause of her unease."

"Hmm," Oswyl said. "That gives me something to grasp when I return to the boarding house tomorrow. What are your intentions?"

Thala turned her pencil between her fingers. "I thought, to visit Learned Braniwen and ask about her last visit with Kereneth." She was careful not to turn the statement into a question.

"A sound plan," Oswyl said, leaning forward and pulling a pasty and one mug of beer toward himself. "Keep this up and you'll be handling your own cases by year's end. Nobody will be able to say you're not equal to the work."

Thala flushed and applied herself to her supper rather than shape an answer.

\---------------

Oswyl walked Thala home that night, as usual, though she thought he might have watched dark corners with increased suspicion. On the one hand, she appreciated his concern. On the other, she _was_ a junior locator; she was perfectly well aware of the flaws in human nature and versed in basic defense.

As she fell asleep in the comfort of her small rented room, it occurred to her that Kereneth, as a nearly-invested shaman, was probably also versed in basic defense. She made a note in her casebook by the dim light of the gibbous moon, and hoped it would be legible in the morning.

In the event, she was able to decipher her own handwriting, and sent a message to headquarters in case Oswyl had stopped by before making his way to Kereneth's boardinghouse. She did not swing by herself, but walked directly to the Daughter's chapterhouse, where she knocked, politely introduced herself to the woman who answered the door, and waited to see if the Learned Braniwen was available that day.

Luck (good, she hoped) was with her, and within short order she was escorted to the third floor where a plump, comfortable woman with dust-brown hair and a pox-scarred face was making terrible faces at a thick book filled with dense text and intricate diagrams, pen dripping ink onto a sheet of notes under her right hand. Thala waited a moment, then cleared her throat.

The woman looked up, startled, then smiled. "Oh, hello! You must be Thala. My apologies, I only meant to finish my notes on one particularly egregious proof, but the minute I start reading, I get so caught up in wanting to explain to Nagorae that theology and geometry are completely different disciplines that I forget about everything else. And it's all useless since he's three hundred years dead -- horribly rude of him, wouldn't you say? Anyway, I'm Braniwen of Storkford. I'm not sure what you want from me, since Grayjays tend not to be theologians or geometers, but I'll do my best to be of service."

Thala blinked at the flood of words, then slid forward into the small study and closed the door behind her. "Thank you for your kind offer. In point of fact, I'm here about your sister by marriage, Kereneth. Two days ago--"

"Kereneth? Really? In trouble with the Grayjays?" Braniwen's face clouded before she smacked her hand against the geometry book. "Oh, don't tell me -- Amaric made another one of those idiotic complaints, didn't he? I don't understand why he can't just let it go. Yes, she turned down his suit after Ismaryl and Ismey died, and ran off to become a shaman, but that was her right. He doesn't have any authority over her, no more than he has authority over me, and I wish he'd stop trying to insist otherwise."

Thala blinked again. "I-- what?"

"Amaric, my younger brother," Braniwen said. "He had some idea that Kereneth ought to marry him after my older brother Ismaryl died, and my poor little nephew Ismey along with him. Kereneth's brother agreed, and they were ironing out the plans when she found out and said no. I agreed with her, of course, but coming to Easthome was all her idea no matter what Amaric thinks. I only offered her a place in the Daughter's service, not anything to do with shamanism." She waved a hand as if dismissing the issue. "Anyway, he's in Easthome, something about a lumber contract I think, and he barged in on my supper with Kereneth like a boar in a library four days ago. I promise, whatever he said about her, it isn't true."

"I'll make a note of that," Thala said, still somewhat overwhelmed both by Braniwen's mistaken conclusion and the rapidity of her speech. Then she added, very quickly, "What happened between Kereneth and Amaric at that meeting?"

Braniwen closed her mouth on whatever she'd been about to say, held up one finger, and frowned up at the ceiling. Then she nodded and met Thala's eyes. "He yelled, both at her for leaving Storkford and at me for not telling him she was in Easthome. Then he tried to get her to come home with him. He's never been very good at persuasion, though -- to this day, I don't know how he talked his first wife and her family into a marriage contract -- so naturally Kereneth said no. I was proud of her for that! She never used to say no to Ismaryl or Amaric, no matter how tired or busy she was. He shouted some more, when he left she had a good cry, and I thought that was the end of that except now I'll have to go shout at him for spreading lies about my dearest sister."

Thala seized on one of the implications of Braniwen's report: "Amaric is still in Easthome?"

"He _should_ be -- he took rooms on Slipbark Road, near the woodcrafters' shops," Braniwen said. "Why, has something happened to him?"

"Not so far as I know," Thala said, "and I promise you the Grayjays will keep a close eye on him. Thank you very much for your assistance, Learned Braniwen. If I think of any further questions, may I call on you again later today or in the next few days?"

"Certainly!" said Braniwen. "I'll be here wrestling with Nagorae and his errors. And I do hope my family doesn't give you too much trouble."

Thala bowed, wordlessly, and slipped out before Braniwen could start another flood of words.

\---------------

Slipbark Road, near the woodworkers' shops, was not the most precise set of directions, but Thala found the correct building after only two inquiries: a shabby, two-story building whose ground floor served as a tavern and whose top floor held eight small rooms for traders and for visiting journeymen as-yet unattached to masters. Amaric of Storkford had rented one facing the rather scraggly rear garden for two weeks while he discussed contracts with various craftsmen along the street.

"Has anyone seen him in the past three days?" Thala asked the landlady.

The woman shrugged. "He paid in advance and he's quiet. I don't track who comes and goes unless they make trouble or owe money."

That was fair enough, though unhelpful. Thala steeled herself, adjusted her grays, and said, "I'll need to look around his room."

The landlady raised her eyebrows for a long moment. Then she flicked her cleaning rag over her shoulder and pulled a ring of keys from her belt. "He didn't pay extra to stay undisturbed, so why not. Better to let you in now than have you come back with a guard to ruin my doors."

Thala followed the woman up the narrow stairs and down the corridor to the rear of the building, where she unlocked a door whose blue paint was faded and starting to peel. "Give me a shout when you're done poking around and I'll lock up behind you," the landlady said, and left Thala alone to face whatever Amaric of Storkford might have waiting his room.

At first glance, he seemed to have vanished with as little trace as his sister by marriage. There were no clothes, no personal items, no samples of wood such as a sawmill owner might bring to show potential customers, and the scent of human habitation had the faintly stale and dusty flavor that implied nobody had been in the room to refresh it recently.

As Thala moved further into the room, however, she found small signs of disarray. The wooden window shutter hung crookedly and the iron pin had been neatly removed from the lower hinge. A cloth reeking of alcohol and streaked here and there with blood lay wadded up in the chamber pot. And most damning of all, a woman's boot lay kicked underneath the bed with the letters "KERENE" scratched clumsily into the worn leather, as if the person who'd written them had only an imperfect tool -- perhaps a hinge pin -- with which to work, and had been interrupted partway through.

Thala collected the boot and the chamber pot, debated for a minute over whether to finish dismantling the shutter and take the upper hinge pin, and then walked downstairs. "Thank you for your assistance," she told the landlady. "Some other locators may come to check the room. Please don't go in and disturb anything."

The landlady made the signs of the gods with weary carelessness. "Just tell the rest of the jays I knew nothing about whatever he was up to," she said, and waved Thala out onto the street.

\---------------

Back at headquarters, Thala presented her evidence -- both objects and testimony -- and was gratified when the two senior locators on duty both took her seriously and agreed with her conclusion: Amaric of Storkford had, for whatever reason, kidnapped his sister by marriage and presumably fled Easthome toward the forest.

"If we don't catch him on the road, we'll catch him in Storkford," said Senior Locator Adallyr as she mounted a horse and waited for her accompanying guards to assemble in the courtyard. "We should have Shaman Kereneth back at the Royal College within the week -- possibly sooner if she keeps doing what she can to fight Amaric and leave signs of their passage. Good work, Junior Locator."

Thala ducked her head. "Thank you, ma'am. May I bring the news to the other shamans? I know Kereneth's teacher has been worried about her."

Adallyr shook her head. "The evidence is strong, but we may yet be wrong in our choice of suspect. Don't give false reassurance while the case is still open. Actually, stay away from the shamans altogether until we return, including the one who's courting you."

Thala flushed. "Yes, ma'am. That makes sense."

Adallyr smiled down from her horse. "As I said, you've done good work. You'll beat the rest of the precepts into your bones soon enough. Oswyl is one of our best teachers, though if you tell him I said so, I'll deny those words to my dying breath, and I look forward to welcoming you fully into the Father's service."

"Ready, Locator," said a guard, guiding his horse over to Adallyr's side. "We ride at your word."

"Excellent. Let's be off," Adallyr said, and pressed a heel into her horse's flank.

Thala watched the small company ride out. "Father of Winter, watch over them and let your justice be done," she murmured. Let Kereneth return safely to her chosen path. Let Amaric of Storkford face the rightful punishment for his crime. And let the consequences in Storkford fall on those relatives who had let the rot between them fester, rather than on any who had tried to help, however inept their efforts.

A gust of winter wind blew through Thala's hair as Adallyr and the guards turned onto a side street and were gone.

Thala allowed herself to smile.

Then she returned inside to write her reports and wait for Oswyl and the start of another case.


End file.
